My First Wedding Date
by hopelesslyhalfhearted
Summary: When Harry tells a lie to please his mother, and somehow ends up getting Nikki intertwined in the web of deceit, will the lies blur into the truth? COMPLETED.
1. My Mother Theory

My Theory on Mothers

I had finally finished up all my paperwork, no easy feat considering we'd had 3 suspicious deaths in that week. I was late getting home, and, as predicted, had an answering machine message from Mum.

"_Where are you? I hope you're not working overtime again. I needed to talk to you about cousin Julie's wedding. Call me back, love you." _

I glanced at the clock. 9. She'd be going to bed soon. I knew I had to phone her back, but I really didn't want to. It felt a bit like getting up in the morning, knowing that there's a snooze button _right there _and you can touch it and you can _sleep_, but at the same time knowing that, if you did decide to press it, you'd get a bollocking from work and it wasn't really worth it. My mother was work in this situation.

Cousin Julie was my Mum's brother's youngest child. The other 3 had already married (I think one of them had actually already managed a divorce and second marriage) and now that the fourth was being sent on her way, Mum seemed to enjoy constantly reminding me that all 4 cousins were younger than me and that Uncle John had 4 grandchildren. I don't think anyone has ever been as jealous about anything as Mum is about John's family.

"Hi Mum," After a long internal battle, I'd finally picked up the phone and dialled, she answered immediately. I wondered if she had been sat next to the phone.

"_Hello darling, did you get my message?"_

"Yes, it's why I called," I suddenly thought this might sound a little mean. "Well, not the only reason, of course, I...how was your week?"

"_Oh, you know, same old, same old,"_

"I thought you were visiting Margret for a few nights?" It was all she had talked about last week, and the week before, and the week before, and the...you get the picture.

"_Oh, she had the flu, and I didn't fancy being ill for Julie's wedding, so we've rescheduled. Talking of Julie's wedding," _It amazed me that, no matter how much I tried to change the subject, my mother always managed to get straight back into it. It came naturally to her, I think, although I swear she has gotten better with age. _"She needs to know if you're bringing a plus one,"_

"Mum, I've told you I..."

"_I know, sweetie, just hear me out. You will be the only single man there, all her friends are married, all his friends are married," _I seriously doubted these statements, but I couldn't be bothered arguing with her. _"I know you don't have a girlfriend, but maybe you could find a nice girl to bring, it would be a lovely ice breaker." _How my mother thought asking a stranger to come sleep in the same bed as me at some hotel for a weekend as our first date, was an ice breaker, is beyond me. _"I don't understand why you have so much trouble with women anyway, it's not like you're ugly, maybe you should tone down the sarcasm a little bit." _

"I have a girlfriend." Lie number 1. Don't hate me too much. You'd have done the same in my situation. I would like to say I lied because I felt sorry for her and wanted to make her feel better, which in part is true, but mostly I just wanted her off my back. I heard her intake of breath and could imagine the look of pure joy and confusion that would be etched across her face.

"_Since when?"_

"A few months."

"_And you didn't think to mention this when I wa..."_

"I just don't think I should invite her."

"_Why not?"_

"We've never really been on a...weekend away. Having our first one at my cousin's wedding seems a little..." I was really glad this was an over the phone conversation. I'd have to practice more if I was ever going to lie to her face convincingly. "Anyway, asking her to meet my whole family before she's even met you is..."

"_It's wonderful!" _I had dug myself into a hole. A large, deep, black hole in a field covered in manure. _"What's her name? What's she like?"_

"Erm...Mum, I'm actually meant to be meeting her now, so I'll phone you another time," I found myself praying that she'd, for once, accept my excuse.

"_Oh, am I making you late? Silly me. Well, I'll put you down for plus one! Have a lovely time," _

"Will do,"

"_Goodbye," _

"Bye."

I found it ironic that I said I had a girlfriend to get my Mum off my back, thus making my life easier. I realised I had made it an awful lot harder. In future, I decided, I would stop bothering about trying to please her.

Mothers. The world would be a much better place without them. Distinctly lacking in population though. Maybe we should just allow a child to be born and remove it from its mother immediately. They cause so much more fuss than they're worth.


	2. My Idea

My Idea

Trust Nikki to be late the one day that I actually needed to speak to her about something important. She came waltzing in at 11, not a hair out of place and ridiculously joyful looking. In contrast, I hadn't even bothered combing my hair after my morning shower and the bags drooped down below my eyes, which were probably a little bloodshot too.

"You look like crap," She kindly pointed out as she settled down at her desk. I placed my head in my hands and groaned.

"I need a girlfriend." I heard her giggle a little before getting her laptop out.

"Keeping up with all the different names final driven you insane?"

"Shut up," I raised my head, instantly regretting it as soon as I did. Another pang of jealousy hit me as I made contact with her bright, wide-awake eyes. "I am in dire need of help."

"I only have one single friend at the moment, and she bats for the other team, but I guess you could try your luck." Really? Was it necessary for her to smile like that? Could she not see my despair?

"I told my Mum I was bringing my girlfriend to that stupid wedding." Nikki was well aware of the wedding situation by then, she had suggested giving Mum some lemon juice cocktail that supposedly made you lose your voice.

"What girlfriend?" I raised my eyebrows at her, she was being spectacularly slow. "You told your mother you had a girlfriend?" She laughed.

"I'm glad you find it amusing."

"Sorry, but Harry, come on," She broke her sentence to have another laughing fit. "Only you could do that."

"Shut up. I need you to help,"

"How on earth am I meant to help?"

"You've got friends, haven't you?" She was still smiling, and I think trying to hold back laughter. Bitch. "What about Jenny? You said she thought I was 'totally hot'!"

"Julie?"

"That one,"

"That was a year ago Harry, she's engaged now, somehow I don't think Tom would be overly happy with her spending a weekend sharing a bed with someone 'totally hot'."

"You must have other single friends,"

"As I said previously, no I don't,"

"Well, maybe the lesbian wouldn't mind just pretending,"

"I think she's in Geneva with work,"

"Great." I hit my head against the desk.

"Nikki!" Leo called. "Anderson case!"

"Keep thinking," She grinned at me, then stood up and left, almost bouncing her way towards the mortuary. I really hated how energetic she was.

She came back after lunch and we began brainstorming. I'd drunk about 6 cups of coffee, so was considerably more awake, although I could hardly have been described as lively.

"Just tell her you broke up,"

"Then I'll have a whole weekend of 'Why did you break up?', 'Who broke up with who?', 'Got your eye on anyone else'..."

"Ok, I get the picture." We were silent for a few minutes then. "Up market prostitute?"

"Nikki, come on!"

"What? We've run out of options. It's basically what Debra Messing did, anyway,"

"Who's Debra Messing?"

"Well, not Debra Messing, but her character." Oh god. Not another romantic comedy plot. Nikki seemed obsessed with trying to recreate them in real life. "She hired this guy as a date to her little sister's wedding."

"I am not paying someone."

"Looks like it's your only option, buddy,"

We went back to actually doing some work for a while.

"It wouldn't work anyway," I mused. "I said we'd been dating for a few months, we'd have to know stuff about each other,"

"You know nothing about any girl you know,"

"Apart from you," I'd muttered it, unthinkingly, but suddenly it clicked and I thought up the most brilliant plan. The worries of the night before seemed completely irrational. "Apart from you." I mumbled again, playing the idea over in my head.

"What?" I grinned at her and I think she caught on. "No,"

"Please?"

"No Harry, no way,"

"Why not? You've already met Mum, you know everything about me, I know everything about you. It couldn't be more perfect."

"No Harry."

"We'll pretend we're together and then a couple of weeks after I'll tell Mum we thought we were better as friends, so we broke up. A mutual break up, nobody gets any blame."

"Harry..."

"Come on! Free champagne, free hotel, free spa, free pool," I started to think I might actually have been able to pull it off. "It's a free weekend away!"

"I only go on weekends away when it's a forced hen night or..."

"A sex fest?" I butted in.

"With a _real _boyfriend." She frowned. "Harry, I am not sharing a bed with you for two nights!"

"Why not?"

"You kick in your sleep!"

"How the hell would you know?"

"That conference where they booked us the wrong room!"

"No one else has ever complained!"

"Well, they must go into a coma every night,"

"Fine, I'll sleep on the floor."

"It's still a no,"

"Come on! I'll owe you the biggest favour ever!"

"No." She stood up and put her coat on. "I've got a date tonight, I'll see you tomorrow."


	3. My Solution

My Solution

When the doorbell rung, it was tempting to pretend I was asleep. I had visions of Mum coming over to try and catch a glimpse of the 'girlfriend', then insisting I was looking too skinny, then telling me off for not having any proper food in the house, afterwards spending an hour in some stupid 24 hour supermarket and finally forcing me to eat a massive pile of food at stupid o'clock.

I glanced at my watch. 8. Nobody was going to believe I was asleep. I briefly considered pretending I wasn't even in, but then realised they would have seen all my lights on. Finally, I pulled myself up out of the coach and went over to the buzzer.

"It's open." I really couldn't be bothered with asking who it was; there was only one possibility when I thought about it, as Nikki was on a date with some inappropriate male; I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd skipped dinner and gone straight to Nikki's. Mum was the only option.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I opened to door and there stood the tiny blonde.

"I'll do it." I wasn't quite sure whether to continue the conversation inside. I opened to door wider, but she stayed where she was. "You sleep on the floor. I get the bed. You will let me get _highly _intoxicated, whilst staying sober yourself. You will not check out _any _woman there." She trudged inside, but turned back to look at me as I closed the door. "And if you dare continue a conversation that starts with 'When's it your turn?' I will hit you."

"I don't think our story will be overly convincing if we hit each other every spare moment." I smiled at her.

"Whatever. Can we just watch a film?" I wanted so desperately to ask what made her change her mind, I had a feeling it was something to do with her date. I also had a feeling that it wasn't the right time. She seemed incredibly pissed off, but I couldn't work out what at.

We were half way through Notting Hill when I realised I hadn't said the most important thing.

"Thanks Niks." I turned to look at her, she nodded in acknowledgement. "What happened on the date?"

"Date?"

"The date you had tonight," Realisation spread across her face and I wondered how she could have forgotten something from mere hours before, especially when it seemed to have gotten her so wound up.

"He stood me up,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, well these things happen," I was completely confused as to how something that seemed to have got her so riled earlier, was now being completely brushed aside.

"Then he must fit into one of two categories," I began and she looked at me, obviously wondering where I was going. "Gay or retarded,"

"Harry!" She hit me and even though she was attempting to cover it up, I caught the smile that briefly shone on her face. "You can't call people retarded,"

"Oh, don't worry, all the kids are using it now-a-days, it's not taboo anymore,"

"And you're down with the kids, right?"

"Of course," I wondered whether to tell her my little tale, trying to work out whether how much livelier it would make her (laughing at me always has this effect it seems) would outweigh my embarrassment. "A neighbour's son called me it yesterday,"

"And what did you do to deserve such harsh words?"

"I tripped on the stairs," She let out her childish giggle. "Going up them." Once I'd said that there was no stopping her.


	4. My Journey's Beginning

My Journey's Beginning 

"Leo," I popped my head around his office door. "I'm off,"

"Ok," I'd told him about the wedding, although I'd failed to mention how Nikki fell into the proceedings. Luckily, she had the weekend off anyway, so we hadn't needed to think up an explanation of whereabouts. "Enjoy yourself," He smiled evilly; he was still under the illusion that I was going to spend the weekend receiving abuse for still being single, a prospect which he seemed to find highly amusing.

"Oh, shut it,"

"Who knows Harry, maybe someone from the groom's side of the family will catch your eye," Nikki had come up behind me and pushed the door fully open, leaving us both stood in the doorway. "Or the bride's, if you're into incest," She was evil. Pure evil.

In the few weeks between the formation of the plan and the weekend, Nikki had insisted I tell her more about my family. She insisted it was because we needed to look like a realistic couple and that she didn't want to be embarrassed by not knowing the name of my great aunt, in reality there was only one motive; acquiring stupid anecdotes that she could tease me about for most of the foreseeable future.

One such story was that of when, at 10 years old, cousin Julie's elder sister, Maggie, and I had kissed at midnight, because we saw all the adults doing it and got jealous. It was a brief peck, and by no means incestuous, I promise. But nevertheless it is a subject that is guaranteed to come up at every single family reunion. My mother and Auntie have always taken great delight in teasing us about how, in an alternate universe, they could have been grand-parents to deformed children; I fail to find any humour in this and I don't see how they could find the prospect of having disabled grandchildren hilarious, alas they do – even though cousin Maggie is now married with 3 children.

I refused to tell her anymore after she'd spent a good 20 minutes laughing at that.

I glared at her, but she just let out a small giggle before turning back to Leo. "I'll be off too, if that's ok,"

"Got any plans?" Leo asked.

"Not really."

"Have fun,"

"Will do, have a nice weekend," She called on her way out.

"Have a good weekend Leo," I said, before returning to my desk and packing up. I had suggested picking Nikki up in the morning and leaving all her bags in the car with mine so that we could set off straight from work, but she insisted Leo might get suspicious. Instead, I had packed all my things into my car last night, and from work drove straight to Nikki's, although she insisted I didn't follow her directly. It felt like I was either:

In a Bond film

Having an affair with a married woman

or

A policeman arranging to meet a informant

So, as I walked up the white steps to her flat, in my mind I pretended I was James Bond, arranging to meet Lidiya Tarasov, the wife of a KGB spy, who not only information on the latest plans of her husband's cell, but was more than willing to partake in a little unfaithfulness on a smaller, more personal scale.

"What's in there?" I eyed the 2 bags that seemed to take up most of Nikki's bedroom.

"I haven't decided which outfit I'm going to wear," I raised an eyebrow, wondering how many outfits she had to choose from. "I've narrowed it down to 5, plus clothes for the other 2 days," I wasn't actually surprised by this; after spending hours waiting for her to choose an outfit every time we went to a conference, I had suspected choosing an outfit for a wedding would prove quite a challenge.

"We're not even staying the day on Monday, just until we're hangover free," Until a few weeks before I'd been under the illusion that I only had endure the embarrassment of my mother and family for 2 days maximum, until Nikki reminded me that it was a bank holiday weekend and that if I actually bothered looking at the invitation properly I'd see that we were expected to stay Friday, Saturday _and _Sunday night.

"We're hangover free?" She laughed, confusing me. "_We _agreed that you wouldn't be getting drunk," I had been hoping she'd forget that part, as I was finding it hard to imagine being able to survive one hour in my family's company without some sort of relief, never mind a whole weekend.

"Tight arse," I lifted up her main bags, leaving her to carry her handbag and various supplies of food for the journey.

"It's such a shame, all that free booze that you won't be able to take advantage of," I ignored her and carried on, eventually reaching my car, although not without a slight trip on the stairs (I managed to craftily conceal this from Nikki, she'd have had a field day). It took a while to work out how to fit everything in the boot, with the whole thing eventually becoming a puzzle.

"Come on," I rolled down the passenger window so that she could hear me. I was sat in the driver's seat, keys in the ignition, ready to go; but she stayed stood still outside, as if waiting for something. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for my loving and devoted boyfriend to be a gentleman and open the door for me," I raised an eyebrow, but decided I couldn't be bothered arguing. I got out and dutifully opened the door for her.

"You're going to make the most of this aren't you?" I asked as we set off.

"Of course, you fool," She laughed. "You didn't think I was actually going to make this weekend easy for you?"

**Harry and Nikki in this episode – family scenes. Enough said. **

**I didn't think they'd be able to beat the "I need you," *Harry kicks down door* moment, by that actually have.**

**It's so mean of the writers to tease like that. Especially seeing next week's preview. Stupid Harry. **


	5. My Arrival

My Arrival

"It's bloody massive," I loved how eloquent Nikki was at times. To be fair though, what she said, as we drove up the gravel drive to the posh country hotel, were exactly the same words as those that had been in my thoughts.

"You can say that again,"

"It's bloody massive," We both laughed as I pulled up next to the building. The area was actually a no parking zone, but I really didn't feel like dragging Nikki's massive bags and my own further than was needed. I decided I'd move it later. "How the on earth does someone afford to rent this place out for a whole weekend?"

"Investment banker groom," I heaved the bags out of the boot, slamming the door shut afterwards. "Whose daddy also happens to be CEO of said bank,"

"Holy crap," Nikki exclaimed. I wasn't sure whether she was surprised at the amount of money that was involved or at the weight of the bag that she had just attempted to pick up. I determined that it was probably both. I took the bag off her and left her to carry mine, which was arguably the lightest, across into the foyer. She sat on one of the cream sofas, the bags lined up next to her, leafing through one of the many leaflets and magazines that lay neatly in a woven basket under the coffee table, as I checked us in.

"Harry!" I turned around to see Auntie Joyce careering towards me, just before she collided into me, enclosing me in a hug. I laughed a little at how her head barely reached my elbows, even though it had been that way ever since I was 18.

"Hi,"

"Where's this girl then?" She looked around the massive room, bringing to mind an image of a meerkat.

"Er..." I looked to where Nikki had been sat minutes earlier, only to find that she had disappeared, leaving the bags behind. "I think she must have gone for a nose around,"

"I'll just have to wait for dinner, then,"

"Yes you will,"

"Is she pretty?" The interrogation begins.

"Very,"

"Divorced?"

"No," I finally got my key and made my way over to get the bags, with, it seemed, Auntie Joyce acting as my shadow.

"Funny?"

"Yes,"

"I can't believe you kept us all in the dark for so long," One of the hotel staff came over to us then and offered to take my bags upstairs. In most hotels I would have just done it myself, but I had presumed that, with it being an old stately home, this hotel didn't have lifts; so I handed them over and told him my room number. "How long was it again?"

"That we've been going out?" She nodded. "7 months-ish,"

"You were dating when your mother set you up on Valentine's Day?" I quickly worked out the maths in my head, before nodding. "Wow. Well, at least now we know why it failed." Amazingly enough, it wasn't my fake relationship that caused the Valentine's Day catastrophe; I think the fact that the girl was vegan (something, I hasten to add, I wasn't aware of beforehand) and I took her to a steakhouse, pretty much sealed my fate.

We continued talking for a while and she informed me of the rough schedule for the weekend.

"We'll have to catch up more over dinner; I have to go phone the flower people," Thank god.

"Ok, I'll see you,"

"Bye," She scurried away in a similar fashion to how she had entered and I was left wondering whether to go up to the room or wait there for Nikki to come back.

I didn't need to wonder too long, for within seconds Nikki came floating back in.

"Where did you go?" I asked as she came up to my side and we made our way up the massive marble staircase.

"I had no intention of any of your family seeing me in after-long-car-journey-so-all-smudged make up." She paused. "Harry, even the toilets are posh," She giggled.

"Don't tell me one of the 'unsuitables' hasn't taken you somewhere like this,"

"Never," She stood aside, waiting for me to unlock the room.

"Does this mean I get the prize for best ever date?" I opened the door wide and let her in first, following closely behind. It wasn't a room as such; I'd have called it a suite myself. The decoration was predictable, fitting in with the rest of what we had seen at the hotel. Everything looked ridiculously expensive; I could have just stepped into a BBC period drama, although the large flat screen TV, that adorned one of the walls, gave it away.

"Yes," She flung herself onto the bed, her arms and legs splayed out in all directions. "Especially seeing as I don't even have to share this ridiculously comfy bed with anyone," I looked towards the coach and let out a slight groan. It wasn't that the sofa looked uncomfortable, far from it actually, but, when compared to the luxurious bed, it may as well have been concrete flooring. The bags were lined up against one of the walls and I began rummaging around in mine for a change of clothes.

"Everyone's going down to dinner at about 8," That gave her less than half an hour to get ready and she didn't look at all impressed.

"It's just your family, right?"

"Close family members tonight and tomorrow, few more people arriving tomorrow evening, but most people are coming on Sunday and just staying one night," She had also begun looking in her bags, though it seemed she had packed in a much more organised manor and managed to withdraw exactly what she was looking for within seconds. My clothes splurged out of my bag after I was done and I wondered how I had ever fit them in there in the first place, whereas hers still looked neat and tidy. Women.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" She called from the bathroom.

"Golf?"

"No."

"Archery?"

"No."

"Horse riding?"

"No."

"Shooting?"

"No way!"

"Falconry?"

"No!"

"Croquet?" She popped her head around the door.

"You're just making these up now,"

"I'm not!" I waved the hotel leaflet in her face. "They're all in here," I grinned. "Ooooh, and giant chess! How did I miss that one?" She snatched it off me and looked through the pages.

"My god." She handed it back and went back to the bathroom mirror, starting to do her hair. She left the door open, as she had changed, and I stayed stood at the doorway.

"What? None of those options appeal to you?"

"I don't know, shooting sounds quite appealing," With image of Nikki traipsing around with a shotgun under her arm in a flat cap in my mind, I couldn't help but laugh. "I mean, how could I turn down the opportunity to handle a gun near you?"


	6. My First Glance

**So, those episodes were disappointing. Apart from Harry.**

"**No, I'm lying, don't ever, ever, contact me again."**

**Why I love him all summed up in 9 words.**

My First Glance

"Ready yet?" I'd been sat on the bed for 15 minutes, waiting for her to emerge. In the time, I'd managed to master the technique of blowing a malteser up in the air above my face, with the ones left over from the journey. We'd slightly over budgeted on the sweet front and were left with 2 packs of wine gums and maltesers. As I said the words, she came out of the bathroom. God.

"Off _my _bed," She ordered, smirking as she did. I scrambled off, causing my tie to go all skewiff. She laughed, and then walked over to me, grinning as she straightened it for me. "My hair's in messy mode," She pointed to her blonde locks; they were messy, but in the Hollywood-red-carpet-bohemian-messy way. "You're a mess," She brushed the crinkles out of my shirt and pulled the sleeves down. For a moment she seemed nervous and she turned into fragile Nikki.

I quite liked fragile Nikki. She suddenly became the person she was after a hard day at work or one of the various kidnappings or similar events. God, that sounds of awful. Of course I don't like it when she's in danger or upset, that's awful. I just...I like the way her eyes look. I guess the fact that she doesn't attack me with her quick wit during such moods is a major reason.

"We wouldn't want your family jumping to conclusions," She winked and turned around, and just like that she was back to normal Nikki again. "Come on slow poke,"

"I know, sorry," I double checked that I had the room key, before closing the door behind us. "I always spend too long in front of the mirror, but you know, it's not like I can just leave without looking perfect," She pouted and hit my shoulder. "Now, now dear, violence is never the answer,"

"Neither is lying to your mother,"

"Bitch,"

"Now, now dear," She mimicked. "Let's not reduce ourselves to petty name calling,"

We stayed silent for the rest of the way. Just before we entered the dining room, she placed her hand in mine.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing the part," She said under her breath, giggling a little.

"Good call, Miss Streep," The tables were occupied by diners I didn't recognise; the hotel wasn't exclusive to the wedding until tomorrow. In one of the far corners I spotted my closer family members sitting around 3 tables. Unfortunately, they had spotted me before hand, and my mother had stood up and started doing that awful waving-and-jumping-up-and-down-and-shouting-"We're over here," thing, that is only ever acceptable at airports.

I let go of Nikki's hand, it was a reflex action; like in high school when you're walking hand in hand with your girlfriend and a close family friend, or worse your actual mother, walks around the corner. She just grabbed hold of mine again.

"Didn't know I was so repulsive," She whispered cheerfully. "Don't worry. We can have fun,"

"No," I became even more anxious. "Nikki, don't mess around, please,"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dr Cunningham,"


	7. My Greeting

My Greeting

"Hi," I said sheepishly as we reached where Mum was stood. Some of the others had stood up and began hugging me, but Mum stayed rooted to the spot. We got introduced to all of Dave's family; I had trouble imagining any of them experiencing a Cunningham Christmas or any other gathering for that matter. I wondered how long it would be before there was some sort of clash. My family, as a whole, are far from 'common' or poor (unless you count Mum's youngest brother, Peter, but nobody has dared mention his name since he got banged up for fraud) but Dave's family. Holy cow. I think they must have had some royal connection. I hoped to god Mum didn't get drunk end up retelling the story of how she caught Julie in a compromising position with someone.

I'd managed to introduce everyone to Nikki, and Mum still hadn't moved.

"Mum?" I wondered if she was already drunk and starting to slip into her sleepy phase. "Are you ok?"

"You're going out with Nikki?" I wasn't quite sure why, but she sounded angry. God. The plan wasn't going work. Crap. I glanced at my best friend and then nodded.

"I didn't think you knew who she was?" Auntie Joyce asked, but Mum ignored her question.

"Nikki?" Mum asked again.

"Yes, Nikki." I smiled, hoping Mum would approve. Although, I then realised, that, seeing as it was all fake anyway, it shouldn't really matter to me if she approved. After that thought, I then remembered the whole point was to make Mum happy, so her deeming Nikki an unsuitable girlfriend, would mean the plan was a failure. Eventually, I came full circle, and recognised that, yes, it did matter what Mum thought.

"You idiot!" She somehow managed to get her tiny arms around the both of us and squeezed tight. "Why the hell didn't you tell me earlier?" She chided me as she let go, finally allowing us to sit down.

"Harry got all worried, didn't you?" Nikki said, in the most patronising voice I had ever heard her use, with a grin etched across her face. Mum looked at me for an explanation.

"You become best friends with all of my girlfriends," I hadn't really been prepared, so I said the first thing that came into my head.

"What' wrong with that?"

"Nothing...until we break up," I waited as the waiter took our orders before continuing. "You still go to dinner with Liz at least once a month,"

"She's a lovely girl," Yes, Mum, a lovely a girl that happened to cheat on me with a good friend. "Although, Nikki is far lovelier,"

"Thanks," Nikki giggled, her cheeks going red.

"I bet it was you who finally got your act together, wasn't it?" Mum then realised everyone else around the table had no idea who Nikki was. "They've worked together for..." She turned to me for an answer.

"7 years," Nikki said immediately.

"7 years," Mum repeated.

"You're a fake doctor too?" Uncle Bryan, Joyce's husband, failed to acknowledge that I had gone to medical school just like every other doctor, but had just decided to not have people's lives on my hands. No matter how much I had tried to explain it over the years, there was no changing his mind. Nikki looked at me, wondering what he meant. I just gave her my _just-go-with-it _look.

"I guess I am," She smiled.

"Anyway, they've always been best friends, haven't you?" What is about mother's that gives them the ability to make you feel like a 5 year old when you're in their presence? "I always thought something might happen. I could tell by the way they look at each other." If I had had access to a gun at the point, god knows what would have happened. I hated stupid romantic ideals about love at first sight and being able to read each other's minds with looks; my Mum was the polar opposite.

"Mum, you met her three times before now; you can't possibly know how we 'look' at each other,"

"Mothers have ways," She tapped her nose and winked. "So, come on, tell me, who made the first move?"

"Harry,"

"Nikki,"

We looked at each other. We hadn't talked this bit over, which was a bit stupid in hindsight, as it was quite obviously going to be talked about.

"Me,"

"Me,"

Damn. Mum laughed at our indecision.

"I didn't know you both had such bad memories,"

"Harry's memory actually often makes me think I'm dating a senile 80 year old," Nikki and Mum giggled together.

"Oh, hush you," I saw my opportunity to change the subject and grabbed it by the horns. "Bryan, how's _your_ memory holding up?"

"Cheeky git,"

"Still golfing away?"

I managed to delve into simple chit chat for the rest of the meal; Nikki fit right in, sharing 'stories' of various moments in our 'relationship'. I wondered when she had developed such a vivid imagination; the embarrassing made up tales just seemed to roll off her tongue with ease; falling in a swimming pool when out on a case at 1am, taking her to a plane show as our first date (technically this was sort of true, though I still wasn't quite sure whether that was a date or not)

"You and your planes!" Julie exclaimed. "I remember being about 6 and you making me play RAF with you. You made me pretend you're nickname was Churchill!" She laughed and raised her hand to her mouth, pretending it was a walkie-talkie. "Churchill to Alpha 42, do you read me?"

"Thanks," I finished off the glass of wine I'd been drinking.

"Ooooh," I braced myself for what was coming; Mum had managed to consume at least 6 glasses of wine by this point. "Julie, you were so cruel to him when you were little! Remember Sleeping Beauty?"

"On that note," I stood up quickly before any of them had the chance to say anything more. "I will be leaving. I shall see you all tomorrow," I rummaged around my pocket and drew out the room key. "Don't you dare wake me up when you come in," I warned Nikki as I handed it to her.

"Wouldn't dream of it darling," She giggled.

"Night everyone,"

As I made my way up to my room, I began to doubt whether leaving Nikki alone with my family was such a good idea.


	8. My Nightmare

My Nightmare

I pretended be asleep when she came in. I was pleasantly surprised by how quiet she was trying to be; of course, being the clumsy Nikki I knew and loved, she didn't fully succeed. There was a crash, followed by various curses and I didn't dare look up to see what she had done. I waited a few minutes until the lights had been switched off and I heard her pulling pack the duvet and getting in.

"Have fun?" I heard a sudden gasp and I could imagine her holding a hand to her chest.

"You git," She exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep,"

"Have fun?" I repeated.

"Yes, _actually._" She said matter of factly. "You're Mum's hilarious." I dreaded to think of what stories had been exchanged. "I never took you for the scared of cartoons type," God. She'd actually told _that _one.

"I was 5."

"No! Not the dragon!" She mimicked, in a scarily similar way to how Mum often did. "I know what you mean about the incest obsession, by the way," She continued. "We were all laughing about it for at least 20 minutes. I mean, I get why I found it all so hilarious, but they must have been telling and hearing jokes like that for decades,"

"Now you feel my pain,"

"Yes, I do." She paused to think. "But I still don't feel sorry for you," I heard her cutesy giggle float through the room and could have sworn it sounded a little more slyly malicious than normal.

"Oh god." Then something occurred to me; something much worse than what stories my mother had been telling. "Nikki. What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, don't worry,"

"Really?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm not mean."

"Could have fooled me." Content with her answer, I rolled over and began attempting to get to sleep.

"Oh, Harry," She said as an afterthought. "If your Mum mentions Violet, she was a tranny stripper you hired for your birthday,"


	9. My New Jumper

My New Jumper

"GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM!" I finally lost my patience and resorted to shouting.

"THERE'S A COMMUNAL TOILET DOWN BY THE DINING ROOM!" She retorted, her voice far from being as exasperated as mine. "Lazy git," She should have made that little murmur to herself a bit quieter.

"LAZY GIT?" I screamed. "IT'S AT THE OTHER END OF THE BUILDING! I'M BUSTING NIKKI!" I heard a groan and suddenly she pulled open the door.

"There you go, your majesty," She had been in there for the past 45 minutes, I had trouble believing I was the one getting royal treatment.

"You're too kind," I muttered sarcastically.

I managed to get ready in less than half the time it took her and, against the odds, we somehow managed to be down at the reception area on time.

"Harry!" My Uncle called and ran up to me, although considering his weight it was more of an odd shuffle waddle...thing. He thrust a blue and pink jumper into my hands. "Your Mum said you didn't have any golf stuff,"

"Oh," I wondered if it was Uncle Bryan's jumper, for if it were, it would have quite possibly gone down to my knees. "Thanks,"

"I tried getting something for you, Nikki," He turned to her. "But I couldn't find anything, sorry,"

"Don't worry about it," She smiled sweetly.

"You're fine how you are anyway." As he said this, his eyes seemed to linger a little too long on her chest area. For some reason, my instinct was to wrap my arm around her waist. So I did. She didn't seem to mind; well, she might have, but she didn't show it.

It turned out that it was indeed his spare jumper, leaving Nikki with the difficult task of attempting to hide her giggles.

"You should ask Bryan if you can keep it," She whispered as we walked down to the first hole. I elbowed her playfully, but couldn't help laughing at the situation.

"Churchill!" I turned to see what Julie wanted. "Look at those pretty _violets_!" She pointed to a patch of flowers and smiled evilly.

"They're not violets, they're..." I suddenly made the connection. "Oh, shut up," Everyone else started laughing and I trudged on ahead. I would have tried defending myself, but I wasn't exactly sure what Nikki had told them and if I said the wrong thing they may have cottoned onto the lie.

"Don't have a strop," Mum teased as she walked by my side. "She's quite the catch,"

"Nikki?"

"Yes,"

"I'm aware," She was? I guess she had her charm, though, of course, her humour left a lot to be desired when compared to mine. She was sort of pretty...well, actually...beautiful. I guess she was a catch.

"Don't screw it up,"

"What makes you think I would do?"

"Over your 36 years you haven't developed the best track record with women,"

"Maybe I was just taking a rather long time to find someone worth not screwing up,"

"Well, I'm glad you've finally done it."

"Yeah."

"I think relationships between best friends are always the ones that last." She mused. "You know, they already know all of each other's bad points, but they like each other nonetheless. That's how most relationships fail, you know? One person discovers something undesirable about the other and they just can't look past it or get over it. Best friends don't get that problem."

"Thanks, Jeremy Kyle,"

"How did you two get together, anyway?" She asked the question that had kept me awake all of the night before. I couldn't think of anything. Imagination had never been my strong point.

"He swept me off my feet," It turned out Nikki was being her usual nosey self and had listened in on the whole conversation. "In the most literal sense, didn't you?" She winked at me.

"I'm confused," Mum laughed.

"Clumsy oaf knocked me over and left me with a badly sprained ankle," She pointed to her two front teeth. "I could barely get around my flat. Turns out he's quite the charming carer,"

"I tripped her over on purpose," I decided I may as well have fun with the situation and play along, Nikki was. "All part of my master plan to get the girl,"

"I remember the last master plan you had for a girl," Oh god. Why does everything I say always backfire on me when Mum's around? I quickly broke away from them and made my way over to talk to Uncle Bryan; I couldn't bear the embarrassment of her retelling the story for what must have the hundredth time.

It turned out Nikki was just as slow at golf as getting ready. I waited for her to finish the last hole whilst everyone went back in to get showered, before having afternoon tea in the flower garden. The whole experience was beginning to feel scarily like some stupid Hollywood romantic comedy that played on every British stereotype possible. Feeling it was finally safe to do so without offending a family member, I pulled off Bryan's jumper and decided to heckle her as she attempted to put the ball in.

"I think I did quite well," I couldn't fathom why on Earth she looked so proud of herself once she had finally finished. I raised an eyebrow. "It was my first time, meany,"

"My first time was far quicker than that,"

"I bet she was really disappointed," She giggled. "Don't worry, all boys peak too soon first time round,"

"You have such a dirty mind,"

"I know," She linked her arm in mine as we made our way back to the main building. "How else do you think I attract all those unsuitable men?"

"Certainly not with your wit,"

"Oh, Dr Cunningham," She sighed as we entered the reception. "When will you get your head out of the clouds and accept the truth?"

"And what truth is this, my dear?"

"Everything about me is superior to you. Including my sense of humour."

"Will you two stop flirting with each other and hurry up?" I hadn't noticed the rest of my family were gathered at the other end of the room and felt a slight twinge in my cheek as I quickly scurried off to get ready.

"You've gone bright red," Nikki whispered. "Like a clown or tomato or...Lenny Henry,"

"Niks," I laughed. "I'm pretty sure Lenny Henry's black,"

"No, I meant when he does Comic Relief," I could see she was struggling to remember the right words; you know, the I-should-know-this-but-my-mind-has-suddenly-gone-blank face. I was pretty sure I knew what she was referring to, but I enjoyed watching her annoyance too much to help her out.

"RED NOSE!" She finally exclaimed as we reached our room. "Red bloody nose day. That's what your face looks like,"


	10. My Old Ways

My Old Ways

I spent the whole time I was in the shower thinking about what Julie had shouted. We were flirting; and it wasn't even because we were acting in front of the others. I'd always passed it off as friendly banter; it was what we did and always had done. I'd never thought that to outsiders it may have looked like something else. I wondered if it looked like that to everyone or only my family because they thought we were a couple. Did we look like a couple?

By the time my shower had finished, I decided that there was no point worrying about it. We were spending the weekend acting like boyfriend and girlfriend, which was the only reason we gave the impression we were.

"Who's hogging the bathroom now?"

"Some of us have to get beautiful," Winked. Wait, is that considered flirting?

"Whereas I just achieve it naturally,"

"No," Corrected her. "You could spend 24 hours in there and still look like a tramp, so there's no point even trying,"

"You're so charming sometimes,"

"I try my hardest,"

It turned out afternoon tea wasn't overly thrilling. Surprise, surprise. Then a few more people arrived and, although the massive influx of people was going to occur on Sunday, I still felt the need to hide from the strangers. I wasn't in the mood to gush about how perfect the bride and groom were; there would be enough of that the following day.

By the time it came to getting ready for the evening meal, waiting for Nikki to get ready had become tedious. I decided to not bother getting changed and went off in search of any male member of my family. As I wondered past the lounge area, I noticed a rather large group of males stood around the bar. Instantly recognising the garish jumper that Mum had bought Mike, Joyce and Bryan's only son, last Christmas, I made my way over to them.

We had a competition to see whose partner spent longest in the bathroom, which ended up being a draw between myself and Dave, something I wasn't surprised at, as every time I met up with Julie she was late.

"I can't believe you're actually in a proper relationship." Mike mused. "You've always been the perpetual singleton," I thought for a while and worked out that I had been the only single male in my close family for the past 4 years. I'd never actually been aware of this fact or even thought about anything along those lines, but somehow having a fake girlfriend seemed to make me even more conscious of the fact I was single. Painfully conscious of it, in fact.

"It's unfair; I've been living precariously through you for years," Mark, Maggie's husband, was my favourite of all my cousin-in-laws. "Your conquests were my conquests,"

"They weren't really conquests..."

"Course they were, you were a right man whore," I developed an understanding as to why Nikki hated it when I called her a slut; it hurt. I've known it all the time, if I was really honest with myself, but hearing it being said by another person makes it get under your skin so much more. It stung. I think that's the only way to describe it. Stinging.

"Where are your kids?" Rubbish subject change attempt.

"The hotel has a babysitting service thing." He dismissed my attempt at redirecting the conversation. "I really can't believe you're actually with a girl, monogamously."

"I wasn't _that _much of a slag."

"Do you love her?" I faltered. Couldn't he have asked something else? A smaller question, one I was more equipped to deal with, instead of pushing me right in at the deep end. Just my luck, as per bloody usual.

"What's love?"

"Don't dodge it, do you love her?"

"I don't know." I think that was the first truth I'd said that weekend when faced with a question about Nikki. "How do you ever know?"

"Well, you guys were best mates, right?"

"Still are."

"Exactly. Best mates love each other, platonically. In your case, you liked each other romantically as well." I wondered if Mark had been a psychiatrist of some kind in a previous life. "It makes sense that the platonic love would turn into romantic love as soon as you slept with each other."

"Ok, Jeremy Kyle,"

"Harry, you really need to stop using the Jeremy Kyle comparison every time someone gives you advice or talks to you like an adult," I don't know how she managed it, but Nikki had somehow crept up on me, without actually knocking anything over or tripping up in the process. Surge of pride; maybe she wasn't so clumsy after all. She leaned over my back."It's getting old," Why did she kiss my neck?

"Nikki, may I say something?" Mike's voice brought me out of my temporary daydream/deep thought process. Why did she kiss my neck? It must have been pretend flirting. We're good at that.

"Of course," Nikki was halfway through the process of buying herself a gin & tonic. Somehow, she'd managed to get the barman's attention and he served her straight away, whereas I had had to wait at least 10 minutes. I suspect it had something to do with my lack of cleavage/blonde hair/dress. I think if I had been wearing a dress, I would have probably been avoided for even longer.

"You're hot. Like really hot. Don't tell Sandra I said that." Sandra, Mike's wife, was my least favourite of my cousins-in-law. She was nice enough as a person by herself, but when she was in wife mode, she became a controlling and scary dragon; reminding me of one of the matron's when I was doing my residency. The mere thought of that woman brought shudders down my spine.

"Where _is _Sandra?" I asked, hoping to finally turn the conversation away from me and Nikki.

"Went to check on the kids," Nikki flapped her hand at me, trying to get me to move off the seat. "They're really cute by the way,"

"Most the time they're not. Toddlers are a nuisance," Mike had inherited family trait of loving kids, but never openly admitting it. If he's like everyone else in the family, he'll grow out of it once they hit 18 and spend the whole time phoning them just to say 'I love you'.

"Tell me about it, I work with one," I reminded myself to ask her to stop smiling at me after she's insulted me, it makes her too cute to be angry at.

**I just realised that Harry's uncle started as being called John and has now been converted to Bryan. I'm a gunna stick with Bryan. I understand that maybe all of Harry's extended family is going to get incredibly confusing; it confuses the hell out of me. Maybe I'll write out a little family tree sort of thing for you. Maybe I won't. It's not that important to the incredibly cheesey and fluffy and predictable storyline I have concocted/stolen from practically every rom-com ever made. Also calling characters Mike and Mark probably doesn't help with being able to distinguish and understand everything.**

EmmaJ1996, I managed to escape from my birdcage. Damn bars, so hard to chew through. 


	11. My Countryside Hunt

My Countryside Hunt

"This is such a wonderful venue," I rolled my eyes; preparing myself for whatever she was going to say. Although, when I thought about it, whatever it was couldn't possibly make the night worse than it already was. Nikki had gone off somewhere an hour and a half previously and despite two 'toilet' trips, I hadn't managed to find her. Whilst playing doting Uncle, Sandra's kids had managed to spill bolognaise down my shirt and as I had left my room key in the room, and Nikki had buggered off with the other one, I was left stranded. Most of the guests had made their way out onto the massive outdoor terrace, admiring the sunset on what was an abnormally clear night; thus leaving me alone with Mum at our table, with a few people we had never met before chatting away to each other at the other tables. "Do you think you'd like a white wedding?"

"Mum," I looked at her as if I were scolding a small child.

"Not you as well,"

"What do you mean 'not me as well'?" I stared at her curiously, terrified of what might come next.

"Well, I merely mentioned the possibility of her being my daughter-in-law and within seconds Nikki was gone," Oh god. A million thoughts ran through my head. Maybe Nikki had packed and left? She seemed to be pretty keen on dodging any questions involving the future of our 'relationship'; maybe it had become a bit too much for her, she never had been that good at lying.

"Mum!" Maybe she was wondering the grounds somewhere?

"Don't 'Mum!' me, you've been courting for quite a while now, it's only natural that you wo..."

"Courting?" For a moment my mind was distracted from the pressing matter of Nikki's whereabouts. "What are you? Victorian? Edwardian?"

"Courting is a perfectly reasonable word,"

"If you were born in the 1700s,"

"Loads of people still use it."

"Loads of people? The leftover First World War veterans? Nobody says courting, Mum, it..." I realised I'd become sidetracked. "Mum, courting isn't the point. What did you say to Nikki?"

"I merely suggested that it could be her in a year or so,"

"What could be her?"

"Standing alone on a balcony for the most of the night because of pre-wedding jitters, not eating for fear of not being able to fit into the dress..."

"Oh, just all the positive sides of getting married then?"

"I made it more appealing when I suggested it to _her_," I wasn't really sure how to carry on the conversation after that – I couldn't tell her the real reason for Nikki's dodging of the subject, and if I even tried to make up the excuse that she was a commitment-phobe, Mum would have most definitely spent half an hour lecturing me with her you're-the-commitment-phobe-grow-a-pair speech, which she had previously used when I was unsure whether I wanted to meet a girl's parents. "Although, given your track record, she'll be dead before you decide to ask her," As it turned out, I didn't need to even mention the subject; Mum got onto all by herself. "Sharing your life with someone else is the natural thing to do, you know?"

"Yes, I'm well aware,"

"You don't seem to be. You seem to be taking every action possible to avoid the natural thing,"

"Did she say where she was going?" The sooner I escaped my mother, the better.

"To get some air or something," She waved a hand vaguely towards the French doors that led out onto a patio, where most of the wedding party were stood conversing among each other, which itself ended at a large pond, before allowing the expanse of grounds to stretch out towards the trees where I had turned off the main road the day before – the cars now only visible as tiny specks of light. "Anyway, I..." I didn't let her finish before standing up.

"I'll see you in a bit Mum,"

"You're buggering off as well?"

"I'll just check on her," I smiled and made my way to terrace, trying to think up a strategy.

After a long 5 minutes of standing next to random strangers, trying to look involved in a conversation that I wasn't even listening to, so that my train of thought wasn't interrupted by a family member, I finally decided that I was probably best checking the room again. There was no point spending the night wondering around the stupidly large grounds, if she was tucked up cosy in bed – which was a real possibility. Too much wine and she was out like a light given half the chance.

She wasn't there.

So, I started my hunt. To survey whether she was somewhere in the crowd of guests, I managed to find a balcony on the second floor, practically right above the patio. Unable to find a blonde in a pale blue dress, I went out the front entrance, anxious to avoid my family, and began a circle of the hotel. Once I realised she wasn't anywhere close to the building, I knew I couldn't search _everywhere_, so I looked at one of the little map leaflets, and set off, planning to visit each of the main points of interest.

**I'm really rubbish at updating. Blame it on a mix of writer's block and 6 hours of exams in a week.**

**No Nikki in a chapter :(**


	12. My Late Night Viewing

It was dark, so I mostly stuck to the lit path that curved its way around the grounds, occasionally deviating slightly if I found somewhere that looked like a particularly good hiding place. I looked through various little garden areas, with intricate maze-like topiaries, which I think, in light, would have been spectacularly beautiful, but in the dusk, they served no purpose other than to make you fear that someone was going to jump out at you.

Just as I'd decided to give up hope, I thought I made out a silhouette slumped next to a tree, by the lake. I hurried over, though I was trying to be quiet, so I ended up not quite running, but doing that weird penguin-waddle power walk thing – like they do at the Olympics. I contemplated sneaking up on her – then realised I wasn't completely sure it was her – I often did silly things to people thinking that they were someone else, and decided I didn't want to cause unnecessary embarrassment. I walked to the other side of the tree, so that I could see the front of the person, but kept far enough away so as not to disturb them.

It was definitely Nikki.

Not that I could see her face, her hair was falling over it, covering all her features, as her head drooped till it was almost touching her chest. There were 2 bottles of wine next to her – I didn't think one comment from my Mum about marriage could have such an effect on her.

I leant over her and, using one hand to hold the hair out of her face, flicked her nose with the other. I laughed loudly, as she scrunched up her face and made a noise which can only be described as a growl. I sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her towards me. I couldn't understand how she could bare the cold – she was wearing only her dress, her figure-hugging, knee length, low neckline, gorgeous dress. I'm ashamed to say I had trouble diverting my eyes from her cleavage.

"Fuck you." She muttered after about 20 minutes of silence.

"It speaks!"

"Nobody wants to have sex with me." She looked up at me with pleading eyes, as if she'd just told me she's lost someone close to her – was I meant to feel sympathy for her? "Not a single person at this wedding wants to shag me." I still wasn't sure if I was meant to be joining in, or whether she just wanted to rant. I had the feeling she was so drunk that she wouldn't notice if I did try to make a comment, anyway – so I stayed quiet, wondering how only Nikki could manage to still smell of summery flowers when she should have smelt like a brewery. "They're all so young and pretty! Best man said no!" I hoped to God that she hadn't actually asked someone 'Come have sex with me?' "They're all so young! And I'm old and wrinkly, and I've got _saggy _tits!" An excuse to look at her cleavage - definitely weren't saggy. "I'm wrinkly and old and ugly,"

"Nikki, you're bloody gorgeous." I wondered if it was acceptable to tell your opposite gender best friend they were gorgeous – I'd only ever called her pretty before. Was gorgeous a term of endearment only to be used between couples, by the man as he caressed her face with his thumb, wondering how he ever got _this _lucky? Or possibly for huddles of excited woman getting ready to go out on the town together? I decided my usage of 'bloody' took away any intimacy from the statement – telling myself that it changed to tone from 'You're angelic' to 'You're fit'. Well, I hoped it did anyway. Although, then I had to think about whether it was ok to tell your best friend they were fit.

"I'm going to be old and wrinkly and nobody's going to love me. My best friend is going to be a cat!"

"When are you planning on replacing me with a cat?" I think if she hadn't been completely pissed, she may have thought up a biting remark along the lines of 'as soon as possible', but, as was the case, she had trouble keeping her head up long enough to even talk to me. "I'm going to take you to bed,"

"Stud," She mumbled as I stood up and offered a hand out to her.

It took a while to get back to the main building, and even longer to get up the stairs – the lift was on the other side of the building – past the dining area where all my family would be. She seemed to have sobered a little by the time we finally reached door, successfully retrieving the room key from her bag and unlocking the door. She stumbled in, unaided, dragging me with her.

"Turn it on," She commanded as she pulled us down onto the sofa/my bed. I did what she asked, then, leaving her to flick through the channels, retrieved an ice bucket from reception. When I returned she seemed to have settled on something.

"What's this?" I asked, as I put the bucket in the fridge.

"X Files," She mumbled, her eyes staying fixed to the screen. I parked myself next to her, conscious that I needed to stay up in case she was sick – although, she seemed to be sobering up quickly, something which attributed to the 30 minute walk through the cold night air. I'd never watched it before – nothing seemed to make sense – just a lot of sci-fi stuff bungled together – that lady from Bleak House seemed to be in charge. I stayed focused on it, desperate not to let myself fall asleep.

"_Not even a kiss? Trust me; the man knows how to kiss. I just never thought of Holman that way, you know. He's my closest friend. And to not even suspect...__"_

"_Well, it seems to me that the best relationships-the ones that last- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is...suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with. __The storm drains are filling up. Let's get out of here.__"_

I kept my eyes glued to the screen; conscious of the implication of what the characters were saying. I didn't look at Nikki. I should have done. Maybe she was thinking the same as me. Maybe we would have had our own clichéd (almost) first kiss. Maybe she looked at me, upset to find that I wasn't looking back. Maybe she'd been braver than me. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

**I'm so bad at updating. I've completely lacked any inspiration for writing anything at the moment – sorry.  
I have an idea for a new story – what if Harry had taken the job in America.**

**I'll try to get this finished as quickly as possible – thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed.**


	13. My Personal Stylist

My Personal Stylist

Ow.

"Why are you on my bed?" She didn't have to hit me to wake me up; a small shake would have sufficed. I peeled open my eyes to the sight of her lying down next to me, face centimetres from mine.

"You were on my sofa," I murmured, closing my eyes once more.

"My head hurts." She groaned, pulled the duvet off me and began to wrap herself up like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"I put a bucket of ice in the fridge last night, should have melted by now." Nothing was a better cure for a hangover than freezing cold water, in her opinion; I tended to find coffee did the trick.

"Thanks," I sat up, cold from the lack of duvet, resigned to the fact that I wouldn't get back to sleep.

"I'm not getting it for you."

"But I'm the patient," She whined. "You have to look after me," I sighed. I was glad that the floor was carpeted; my feet were used to the freezing cold of my wood floorings on a morning, so the warmth was a pleasant surprise.

"We have to be ready in an hour." I said, placing a glass of water on the side table next to her.

"An hour?" She shot up, and seemed to instantly regret it, judging by her low groan and how she proceeded to cradle her head for the following 5 minutes.

"Yep," I was lying, of course. We had 2 hours.

"I'd shout at you if my head didn't hurt so much," She spat, venomously. She groaned, for what must have been the hundredth time in less than 10 minutes, and rolled out of bed. She rubbed her eyes, like a toddler, and then padded towards her suitcase. "You have a shower before me; I can't deal with you complaining again."

"You're too kind," I muttered.

I leant forward towards the mirror, scouring my hair with my fingers, searching out the grey hairs – there weren't many, but everyday another one seemed to sprout up out of nowhere. I duly plucked all the ones I could find from my head, and then set about brushing my teeth. I'd contemplated hair dye, but couldn't quite bring myself to show so much care over my image – and anyway, Nikki would have extra material for our constant teasing, which, quite frankly, was not worth giving her for anything less than £1 million.

And my skin; god, my skin – the deep wrinkles under my eyes grew deeper, and my furrowed brow seemed even more furrowed. After a long internal debate about the sensibility of it, I'd asked Mum about skin care products. "Men your age shouldn't have time to be worrying about wrinkles, you're meant to be busy taking kids to various curricular activities and trying to convince your wife that sex is still a good thing."

Last time I ever consult her about anything. Ever.

"How much time do you want to spend in there Miss World?" I looked at my watch – I'd been occupying the bathroom for 10 minutes. I finished by splashing cold water on my face, and went back into the room.

"All yours,"

"Finally," She grumbled, as she swept past me, dress over one hand, make-up bag in the other.

I looked out onto the lawn of the hotel – there was a large white marquee, which reminded me of a circus big top, sprinkled with icing sugar, where the ceremony would take place.

"Take your tie off,"

"Usually women wait until the evening before they even begin to attempt undressing me," I grinned and turned around to face her.

I'd thought her dress the night before had been mind-blowing.

"Shut up," She said quickly. "We're already half an hour late." Half an hour early. "Just take it off and wear this one," She threw a piece of material at me, before turning back into the bathroom.

It was green, and sort-of-satiny, but I'd never been too good with clothing or fashion, so I couldn't really tell. As she turned away from me, I noticed the decoration bow where the material gathered, near the small of her back. I also noticed the part of her anatomy just below the small of her back, but shook my head and returned focus to the tie.

"I didn't know you were planning on colour coordinating," I called through to her.

"All couples do it," I highly doubted this – I'd never done it. Although, I had never taken a girl to a wedding before, so was probably not in the best position to comment.

"I know, it's just a shame you didn't tell me earlier, I'd have brought my lime green tux,"

"With your fashion sense, I don't doubt that you actually have one of those lying around," She teased as she came back in, sitting on the bed to put on her shoes.

"I have lots of fashionable clothes!"

"Because I've bought them for you – it's like a Mum dressing her son,"

"Or a wife dressing her husband," She looked up at me, and only then did I realise what I'd actually said. I stared back.

"We better go," She grabbed her purse from the desk. "They'll have started without us,"

**I know, I know, I'm hopeless with updating. I'd explain my excuses, but they're all boring as they mostly involve school work and pointless procrastination.**

**I WILL try my hardest to get more done, but no promises, I've got 4 language exams coming up, in 2 different foreign languages. I'm just going to have to momentarily forget I can even write English, otherwise my brain is going to be completely frazzled. **


	14. My Refusal

My Refusal

"I hate it when people make up their own vows,"

"Why?"

"I guess I'm a traditional girl," I eyed her – tradition had never struck me as being Nikki's cup of tea. "What?"

"Nothing,"

"What?"

"Really, nothing,"

"Harry?"

"So you'd just do it by the book?" I asked. "In sickness and in health, for richer for poorer?"

"It's actually for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health,"

"I knew, I was testing you," I lied.

"Sure," She giggled. From one of the bottles in the centre of the ornately decorated table, I poured us each a glass of wine.

"You'd go for the big white wedding then?" We hadn't really had chance to talk after the ceremony. We'd sat at our table; discussed our connections to the bride and groom with the 6 strangers sat with us; shared thoughts on current events; listened to the speeches; and, now watched as the couple swayed around the floor to Elvis Presley. Mentally, I was preparing myself for the onslaught of what I liked to called Death by Barry – I have yet to have attended a wedding where, at the end of it, I didn't want to destroy every single Barry Manilow and Barry White recording ever made.

"Probably," She mused. "But not too big,"

"You wouldn't have enough friends for it to ever be _too _big,"

"My Mr. Right could have lots of friends," She retorted, sticking her tongue out.

"Dream on," I grinned. The smile soon disappeared from my face, as I heard the DJ introduce 'Dancing Queen', in that ridiculously-low-obviously-put-on drone that most DJs seemed to take up.

"Come dance with me," I hadn't had quite enough alcohol for that yet.

"Nope,"

"Come on!"

"No,"

"Fine, I'll go alone,"

"You do that,"

"You bastard,"

"Have fun!" She turned around as she walked away from the table, slyly giving me the finger.


	15. My Kick Up The Arse

My Kick Up The Arse

"You lied to me," I tore my gaze away from where Nikki was gyrating around a tall bloke, who seemed to be enjoying her company far too much, to my mother, who had sat down next to me. For one awful moment, I thought she'd figured out that Nikki wasn't really my girlfriend, but that wasn't possible – we'd held hands all weekend, Nikki had even given me a quick peck after the ceremony; just to be sure we seemed legit.

"That sounds awful sinister," I grinned.

"Don't joke around with me," It was then that I became worried; she wore the same expression she had done the day I came home at 3am on a school night during A-levels, drunk out of my head, having been dumped by my first long-term girlfriend – it was a mix of anger, pity and worry; and to tell the truth, it scared to hell out of me.

"I'm really confused," I was. She nodded towards Nikki, who had moved even closer to the ridiculously tall bloke with blonde hair and no beer belly. I looked down towards my stomach – it seemed pretty flat, though I'd lay off the Boddingtons for a while.

"There is no way you two are dating," I attempted to argue, but she shushed me. "Not even the most trusting of men would allow their girlfriends to dance like that with a man for longer than a minute. They have been grinding for over an hour." I let my mind wonder and think about where Mum had picked up the word 'grinding', but then realised that I really needed to focus.

"I trust her," I attempted feebly. "It's just harmful dancing,"

"That adorable jealous pout on your face suggests otherwise. Jealous boyfriends cut in and stop the behaviour straight away, because they can; they have that authority. Jealous friends sit still, waiting, as usual, for the right time to express their true feelings."

"I am not jealous,"

"Yes you are."

"Mum, I am not..."

"You don't remember most of your inebriated phone calls to me," Oh god no. "But, most of them revolve around Nikki." She paused. "Harry, my dear," I looked at her, and the affectionate smile that she wore, realising that she didn't seem to be angry anymore. "I know you're in love with her; I'd have known it even without all your drunk declarations. Arguing otherwise is like arguing black is white."

"I'm really not..."

"The fact that you love her is not the point." She snapped. "The point is that you lied to me; why?"

I looked at her, and she almost seemed to be crying.

"I didn't want to let you down," I looked down at my glass, and swirled around the deep crimson liquid. "I always let you down; I cancel dinner, I forget to call, I haven't achieved any of the things you wanted for me,"

"That's not true, Harry,"

"It is though, isn't it? With me being a doctor, you expected to get the regular deal – you know, like a country GP, living in a little village in a stone house, Labrador, 2 kids, wife."

"That is not true at all."

"It is, Mum. You wanted me to be happy – conventionally, middle-class, straight out of an advert for Vauxhall, happy. And you wanted grandkids to look after and a daughter-in-law to discuss girly things with." It was like alcohol became some sort of truth serum for me. "You didn't want me to be like Dad and waste my life away for years before achieving any of it; but I somehow managed it anyway." I finished off my wine. "I'm the exact opposite of what you wanted."

"You turning up without a date wouldn't have let me down, Harry."

"It would."

"I know I go on at you about all your girlfriends or lack of them, or whatever, but that doesn't really matter. I only do that because I want you to be happy, Harry. I don't care if it's being happy with kids or being happy as a bachelor, but you're _not _happy now. I _know _you're not. You're definitely not happy spending the weekend pretending to be in love with your best friend for everyone else, whilst spending the rest of the time pretending that you're _not _in love with her."

"I'm happy."

"You are not. And I'm not just talking about this weekend, Harry. All the time you're not – not truly. If being single made you happy, well...that would be fine. Bloody boring and you'd die alone – but if that was what you wanted and were happy with, I'd pay for the prostitutes myself,"

"MUM! I do not use..."

"You will be doing once you're over 55 and alone." She always had been slightly melodramatic, and I would have liked to say she was being so then, but the scariest thing of all was that I think she had a point. "But you don't want to be alone Harry, I know that. You're not _designed _to be alone – and I know you're scared of hurting people like your Dad did, and that you'll let people down, but you bloody won't. And you _need _people, Harry. Not everybody does, but you...you do."

"I've got people, Mum."

"What happens when Blondie over there finds someone?" Her voice lowered, and became softer somehow, as if she knew she was getting onto the touchiest part of the conversation. "Someone who isn't too afraid to tell her how special she is? How wonderful she is? What happens when she's got a husband to go home to, and kids to look after, dinner to cook, a dog to walk, school play costumes to make..."

"Nikki wouldn't be caught dead making costumes." The idea of it amused me – I couldn't imagine her getting any further than trying to thread a needle.

"Harry, she'll be _busy. _Too busy to go to the pub and have a drink with the lonely old man who has always needed her but was too stubborn to admit it." I wasn't sure what to say then. She'd managed to vocalize every single thing that I'd every actually worried about.

"I'm sorry,"

"Why are you saying sorry to me?" She looked at me incredulously. "It's not my life you're ruining - you should be saying sorry to yourself."

"Me and Nikki, we're not..."

"Not what?"

"We'll always be friends,"

"How can you possibly know that? I'm not saying marry her and have lots of babies – just talk to her, let her know how you feel, and if she says 'no thanks' at least you'll know where you stand, and then you can stop moping around and get on with things."

"I can't do that."

"Go get yourself some happy," I looked at her puzzled. "I heard it on a film and I've always wanted to say it." I couldn't help laughing.

**Double upload because I'm so rubbish – please forgive me. Attempting to plan my School Dinner Dance and all sorts.**


	16. My Cliff Dive

My Cliff Dive

"Out of interest, how long were you going to keep it up for?" We'd been sat in silence for 10 minutes; as I digested everything she said, pondering what course of action to take, whilst trying to drown out the DJ.

"The lie?" She nodded. "I was going to phone you in a couple of weeks and say we'd broken up." She nodded, as if she agreed with my plan.

"I never believed you, you know,"

"Yes you did!"

"Maybe for a couple of hours, but darling - come on, I'm not thick. You can try all you want, but you still look at her with such longing - there is no way I believed you finally had her."

"Now, I want all the couples on the floor," I groaned, as I saw Nikki beckoning me to come over with her finger.

"Now's your chance." Mum smiled encouragingly. I didn't budge.

"See, it's not that bad," Nikki whispered into my ear, leaning her head onto my shoulder, having had to physically drag me onto the floor to join her for 'Can't Help Falling in Love with You'.

"It is," I argued, as we swayed to the music. Well, I say swayed – I'd never been capable of any sort of subtle or delicate movement. Nikki swayed; I just sort of shuffled around on the spot.

"How much do you think this all cost?" She mused.

"Fifty thousand,"

"Sixty including honeymoon," I offered.

"Did you have to pay for the hotel?"

"Only for Friday night,"

"And how much did that cost you?"

"A gentlemen never tells," I felt her head move slightly, as she giggled.

"Oh come on, it's not like I'm really your date," She lowered her voice, conscious of who might over hear; although by this point, she may as well not have bothered. "Spit it out,"

"I'm not telling,"

"You're a stubborn ass." I was becoming ever conscious of her warm breath against my ear, finding my heart rate veering out of control. In hushed tones, she sang along to the music and I found myself wishing that it was a different song – one that didn't quite describe my situation so perfectly – any other song – I would have even settled for a Barry Classic. "Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can't help falling in love with you." I knew she singing to herself – but I couldn't stop myself wishing the words were meant for me.

"Mum knows." It blurted out, like vomit. It was word vomit. I just needed her to stop singing, anything to stop her singing.

"Knows what?"

"That we're lying," She pulled her head off my shoulder and stared up at me, puzzled.

Half her face was caught in the beam, leaving her normally pale, flawless skin to alternate between tones of red and blue under the soft lights, and a wayward strand of sun kissed hair hung distractingly over one eye; to resist the urge to wipe it away would have been impossible, so slowly, I took my hand from her waist, and brushed it back into place behind her ear, savouring the feel of her cold cheek. It wasn't just prettiness - it was much more than that. Her rose petal lips parted slightly each time she took a breath, partially revealing her teeth. I'd never noticed her teeth before; the brilliant white that seemed to glow in the dim light, contrasted against the brilliant scarlet of her lips. To look at her lips was to teeter on the brink of a cliff, looking down into a cerulean ocean, willing yourself to jump in, only the fear of jagged rocks that may have been lurking under the surface keeping you still.

I teetered for a long while.

And then I jumped.

**Please keep reviewing, it means the world to me, and thank you so much to everyone who has.**


	17. My Escape

My Escape

"Harry..." She mumbled as soon as I backed away. I wish she had stayed quiet for a while longer, to savour the moment, even if the end result was still rejection. She looked towards Mum, who was trying and failing to act like she hadn't been staring at us, and then turned back to me. "Why did you do that?" I couldn't use the excuse I had in the pub all those years ago; this time she hadn't said a word. I wondered if maybe I could disguise it as a small trip of the feet; that was believable, right? She knew I had two left feet, and it was perfectly plausible that I'd tripped, accidentally finding myself attached to her lips. Although, for this excuse, I had no explanation as to why they lingered there for so long.

"Harry?" God, she smelt good; it wasn't a horrible overpowering perfume smell like Mum or the fumes that hit you when you walk into the cosmetics area of Debenhams – it was subtle, drawing you in slowly, and I wondered how I had ever resisted it before. "Harry?" She tasted of wine and cherry lip balm and mint and the strawberry cheesecake dessert. It was divine. "Harry?" And now her eyes seemed impatient, angry almost, and it took so much effort to not kiss her again. "Why did you do that?" The song changed, and she let her arm drop from where it had been draped over my shoulder, and hang by her side. As the floor around me began to fill with drunk people attempting to sing along to the Macarena, I found myself slipping out of the dreamy kiss induced haze, and begun to realise what I'd just done.

I kissed my best friend.

"Harry?"

I had just kissed my best friend.

"Harry?"

"I kissed my best friend,"

"I know," Oh god, and now I was saying my thoughts out loud without realising. "You said that last one out loud too."

"Shit."

"You meant to say that, right?" She smiled, and though I really wished I could take my mind off her perfectly formed lips, that smile left a wave of relief to rush over me; maybe I hadn't made such a fatal error after all, she had smiled – which meant she was ok and would forget about it and let us continue to be friends. At least, I hoped it did. "Why did you kiss me, Harry? You're Mum knows, we're not acting anymore,"

"I'm so sorry," Oh god, I really wasn't. I couldn't possibly be sorry for something that I wanted to repeat over and over again, until I felt sick from lack of oxygen. I wanted to shout at her – why do you think I kissed you? Why do people normally kiss each other, you daft cow?

"Join in!" I turned to see Mark stood behind me, wiggling his hips, and then jumping around 90 degrees, before starting the dance all over again. "Come on!" I looked around and realised that we were the only ones not dancing.

"Did you say you were thirsty?" I had hit a new low. "I'll go get you a drink," And before she could do anything, I turned on my heels and escaped.

10 minutes later, laid down on the sofa, I realised running away probably wasn't the best course of action. We would have to spend the night in the same room, unless she was more into ridiculously tall bloke than I had first thought, and we were definitely going to have to endure the 3 hour car journey home. Both would be immeasurably awkward. And then there was work. Who was I kidding, I couldn't ever run away from something with Nikki, we would have to deal with things sooner or later; I wish I'd chosen sooner.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I could leave right then, and arrange for her to get a lift home with Mum; but I wouldn't wish 3 hours in an enclosed space with Mum on anyone, especially not somebody who was probably already furious with me.


	18. My Confession

My Confession

I hadn't resorted to pretending to sleep since before puberty, to avoid being caught reading with a torch under the covers. I never thought I would need to try my acting skills out again, but then I kissed Nikki. And then Nikki came into the room calling my name very softly, as if she felt sorry for me and needed to let me down gently. I decided I could wait until the morning for her pity.

And then came morning.

"You need to get up," It was the second rude awakening in a row. Though this time, her weapon of choice was a pillow. I rolled over and looked at my watch; midday. I _did _need to get up. I wondered how long she'd been awake for. "I've had my shower, and packed up," Oh, a good few hours then, if she'd managed all that. "So we can go as soon as you're ready,"

"Ok,"

And so, I spent the next hour taking the longest shower of my life, hoping that if I put it off long enough, the car journey home would never have to happen; maybe we'd find some method of teleportation or something.

"I'll take these down to the car," I said, after I zipped up my small holdall, picking up her suitcases, and left the room promptly.

I walked as slowly as possible back from the car, applying the same logic as I had done for my time-consuming shower. I quickened my pace at the sight of Mum in the lobby, chatting away to Nikki; neither of them looked like they were discussing the terrible whether that the morning had brought.

"We better get going," I said as I approached them, hoping in vain that Mum had kept her mouth shut.

"Oh, that's a shame," She hugged me. "I'll see you both soon, then?"

"Of course," I assured her. "Got everything?" I turned to Nikki, who nodded.

"It was lovely seeing you," Mum leant in and kissed her cheek. "Remember to phone me,"

"I always call you,"

"Not you, Harry; Nikki," I turned to Nikki, confused. She shrugged and readjusted her handbag on her shoulder. "Goodbye then,"

"Bye Mum," As we walked out the door, side by side, I felt an urge to place my hand on the small of her back. I resisted.

"Do you want the radio on?" I asked as we turned onto the motorway, hoping to find some way of filling the silence that had hung in the air for the first 20 minutes of the journey.

"Are you just going to pretend it never happened?"

"Nikki, I was really drunk," The same floral scent that had drawn me in the night before hung in the air, and I couldn't help but wonder why on earth I hadn't paid attention to it on the car journey to the wedding.

"No you weren't,"

"I was," I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, ok?"

"You weren't drunk; you promised you'd stay sober just in case I ended up as bad as I was on Saturday night," Damn it, she had me cornered.

"I guess I broke my promise, then,"

"You're a terrible liar," I couldn't disagree with her on that. "Will you look at me?" I continued to stare at straight forward. "Harry, will you please just look at me?"

"I'm driving, got to keep my eyes on the road,"

"Pull over then,"

"No,"

"Pull over,"

"If we pull over you won't be home in time for Eastenders," I turned on the radio.

"I don't watch Eastenders," Damn it. "Harry, this is ridiculous,"

"I said sorry," I realised how pathetic I sounded, but I was struggling to think up anything reasonably adult to say.

"I don't want you to apologize," She turned off Steve Wright. "I want to know why you did it,"

"Why do you think people normally kiss each other? Idiot," I mumbled – I hadn't meant for her to hear.

"I don't know Harry, why do best friends kiss each other?"

It was then that I knew I needed to man up. If I didn't face it then, I reasoned, it would only lead to unbearable awkwardness every single day for as long as I continued to ignore it. If I grew up, and told her the truth, even if it continued to be awkward, at least I could say I'd done all I could to amend the situation.

"Because I like you,"

"I like you too, but I don't go around sucking your face off,"

"I did not suck your face! I'm a good kisser," I cursed myself – why did I always manage to go off track in important conversations?

"Fair point," She just agreed I was a good kisser. Did that mean she enjoyed it? No, stupid. If she had enjoyed it she wouldn't have rejected me so quickly.

"You're my friend." I continued quickly, before she had the chance to but in again. "And it's ok that we're just friends. Really, it is. I just wanted to try it out, just in case. But it's fine that you rejected me and that you don't want that between...us, ok? So we'll just be friends; that's fine. It's probably better anyway, it was just an experiment," I had a habit of constantly finding myself in situations where I wished I were more eloquent; a best man's speech for a university friend, which I think may have been one of the contributing factors to their early divorce; trying to explain to a girl that I wanted to be just friend; and then, trying to tell my best friend that she was 'the one', but only managing a few short disjointed sentences that created one big lie. It was _not _fine. It had taken Mum to make me realise (not that I'd ever give her the satisfaction of letting her know she'd actually helped me) that I was _not _fine being just friends.

"When did I reject you?"

"It was fairly obvious last night when you..."

"When I what?" She cut me off. "When I ran away and left you confused as hell? Oh wait, that was you,"

"I'm sorry,"

"Sorry for the kiss or for running away?"

"Both,"

"So you regret kissing me?"

"No,"

"No?"

"I don't know,"

"Do you regret the kiss?"

"I don't think so,"

"Why not?"

"Because it was nice." Nice? Could I really not think of a better adjective than nice?

"Why was it nice?"

"I don't know,"

"Why was it nice?"

"Nikki, I..."

"Why was it nice!"

"Will you please stop shouti..."

"WHY WAS IT NICE?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU IN A COMPLETELY NON-PLATONIC, STAY WITH ME FOREVER AND MARRY ME AND HAVE MY KIDS AND LOVE ME BACK WAY." Bollocks. Why couldn't I control my temper? "OK?" Someone honked their horn. "OH, YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!" I hoped Nikki knew I was referring to the driver trying to pull in front of me, and not her. I pushed my hand against the steering wheel, letting my horn blast out loudly for a good 10 seconds.

**I like the idea of Harry being unable to express his romantic feelings towards her in a calm and collected manner – I've never been able to imagine him swooping in with a bouquet of flowers and poetic declarations. **


	19. My Bad Parking

My Bad Parking

"Leave the horn, Harry!" I did as she asked, reluctantly though, wishing that she'd hand me a stress ball to replace it. I took a few deep breaths. "It's nice to know," I looked at incredulously, before quickly turning back to the road. I couldn't quite believe I'd heard her right.

"What is?"

"What you just said,"

"It's nice? I..." What does 'that's nice' mean, I asked myself, really wishing that I had the courage to ask her.

"Harry, your Mum already told me,"

"SHE WHAT?" I honked my horn again; why was everyone trying to cut in front of me today. "IF YOU CAN'T DRIVE PROPERLY GET OFF THE BLOODY ROAD!"

"Will you please calm down?"

"You want me to calm down? I just poured my heart out to you and you just say that's nice? And to top it off, you've been talking to my bloody Mother abou..."

"You're going to crash the car!" She had a point, I had been hitting the steering wheel quite viciously, and when I looked at the dashboard, the speedometer told me I was doing over 100mph. I put my foot on the brake. "I don't think screaming at me really counts as pouring your heart out, Harry," She reached a hand out a placed it over mine on the gearstick. "And I was talking to your mother, because you just left me to figure things out for myself. You can't go around kissing people and running away without an explanation,"

"How could you possibly need an explanation? It's quite simple isn't it?"

"Well, seeing as last time you kissed me you only did it to 'shut me up'; no, Harry, I don't think it is that simple." I stayed silent. "Will you please pull over so I can talk to you properly?" Luckily, there was a services less than a mile away.

I no longer had an excuse not to look at her, and was seriously regretting turning into the service station. I looked out the window to see that, in my frustration, I had somehow parked in a way that meant I was taking up 3 bays.

"Your Mum told me about what she said to you last night." I leant back in my chair, and closed my eyes, wishing that it would all be over quickly.

"Look, Nikki," I drew a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth. "I do love you. I'm fairly sure of that, because...well, there's lots of reasons, the point is I'm sure. And, Mum probably told you otherwise, but really...being friends with you _is _good enough for me," If Mum had already told her, I had trouble fully understanding why she'd just had a go at me, forcing me to make my not-so-romantic declaration.

"Harry, listen..."

"No, please, just listen to me, ok? You're wonderful, you really, really are. And someday maybe you'll meet some guy and he won't be a jerk to you, and that will be _great_. And maybe you won't have time for me anymore, and maybe I'll get insanely jealous, and maybe I'll wind up hating myself for not being that guy who wasn't a jerk to you and who got you to marry him, or whatever. Butthey're all maybes, Niks. And I don't want to focus on maybes – I just know that I definitely need you as my friend, right now, for as long as possible." Maybe I could be eloquent. "And I would rather have you as my friend now, even if that means that somewhere down the line I'm going to end up old and miserable and alone – I'm fine with that. I just...I would rather have you as my friend than not have you at all. Can you understand?"

"You prat." I was expecting to see her crying, judging by the tone of her voice, but when I finally turned to look at her she smiling.

"Sorry?"

"Do you really think I would ever stop being friends with you over something as pathetic as a kiss?"

"Well, I..."

"You're my best friend, Harry, you really don't know me that well if you think that's all you have to do to get rid of me,"

"Niks, I didn't mean to..."

"And, in typical Harry fashion, you've gone in into this whole thing very narrow mindedly,"

"I'm not narrow mi..."

"You haven't even considered that maybe I never did reject you; you just ran away before I had chance to do anything," I willed my heart to stop beating so fast – or for my body to stop producing so much stupid adrenaline.

"You kept asking why I'd done it,"

"Only because I was confused," She laughed, and I had trouble working out if it was at me or herself. "God, I was so confused; you caught me off guard, Harry. And then I kept asking you just now because I wanted to hear it from you – not your mother."

"Hear what?"

"That you loved me; do you have any idea how long I've wanted to hear that? I wasn't really expecting to have it roared at me in between fits of road rage, but I guess it makes it a more interesting story to tell the grandkids," I told myself to go get my hearing checked out as soon as I got home.

"Tell the who?"

"Harry, on Saturday, I wasn't upset because I thought I was getting old or that I couldn't pick anyone up at a wedding – I was upset because your Mum was talking about the future – about _our _future. And I knew I wanted it all, but it upset me because it was pretend and I thought it would always be pretend."

I looked at her, taking in the smile and the twinkle in her eyes, and noticed the same unruly strand of hair that had disarmed me so quickly the night before hung over the same eye; and just has I had done previously, I slowly tucked it out of the way with my thumb.

"Does this mean I'm allowed to kiss you again?"

"Will you run away this time?"

"You can lock the doors just in case?"

**Usually I don't tend to put any author's note – but here goes.**

**I was really nervous about uploading it, because of all the reviews saying you couldn't wait for Nikki's reaction. I hope I've got it right, or at least if it isn't how you imagined it's a good enough alternative. Feel very, very free to tell me off if you don't think I've done it right. I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but I couldn't really think of anything else.**

**Secondly, I realise I have quite a few fics that I have begun and never finished, and I wanted to know if there was a preference to which I should finish (or, if you want me to finish nada, that's also completely acceptable) I don't really have time to finish them all off, but I'd like to maybe have a go at completing at least one.  
As far as I can tell the ones I've started and never finished are :  
Diary  
Raising Poppy  
Don't Weigh Me Down**

**Please, please, please tell me about this in the review? **

**In my longs hours of procrastination and putting off exam revision, I've been working on something, so you can expect that sometime soon.**

**And, finally, can I just say a huge thank you to everyone and anyone who has reviewed this. Rachel, thephoenixsong, doyouliveforthefantasy, dinabar (thanks for the Barry White tip off and all for reminding me to get off my bum and update), Charlotte88 (I am so hooked on Death and All His Friends that it is unreal, I need to remember to review), tigpop (update Alpha to Omega right now), Lizziginne, greyslostwho, Izzy, EmmaJ1996, pinkswallowsun (also completely hooked on your Christmas fic), RonnieAndJackForever-Chloe, colourmehappy, Ann1119, leinte and ANYONE ELSE WHO HAS EVER REVIEWED EVER. This is the first time I've got to 100 reviews. **

**This was going to be the end for Harry and Nikki and their Wedding Date, but I've begun work on 2 extra chapters, as a thank you for motivating me to actually finish this with all your lovely words. **

**Thank you. **


	20. My Speciality

My Speciality

Although I was fairly sure I'd find it empty, I rolled over to look at the other side of the bed.

Just as I'd predicted. She'd probably left for work.

I had an overwhelming desire to get up and roll down the blind, to block out the intruding sunlight which had woken me up. On the other hand, I couldn't bear to leave my bed; my squishy comfortable bed...which didn't have a duvet on. I reached over the side; I'd always been a wriggler, so I often found that the covers had fallen on the floor in the night. There was nothing.

I stayed in position a little longer, but the desire to find out where the hell my duvet was eventually overrode my innate laziness, and I dragged himself up, searching for my boxers and a t-shirt before padding into the hallway.

I chuckled at the sight that greeted me in the kitchen, realising I was a fool for ever feeling deserted. I crept up behind the figure sat at the table, and engulfed her in a hug.

"You stole my duvet," I whispered in her ear, leaving a kiss on her neck, before pulling away and turning to the kettle. "Want a coffee?"

"Why do you have a Panda suit in your wardrobe?"

"Why were you looking in my wardrobe?" I countered; though I wasn't really affronted by it, I didn't really care if she was a bit nosey.

"I was searching for something warm to wear, so I didn't have to steal this," She tugged at the duvet. "To watch Jeremy Kyle in comfort,"

"You watch Jeremy Kyle?"

"Guilty pleasure," And then my brain processed the piece of information she had given me before revealing her awful taste in TV.

"Back up a sec," I turned from where I had been making them drinks, and leant against the countertop. "If you're using the duvet, does that mean you were unsuccessful in finding something else to wear?" Slowly, seductively, she released the duvet from around her, and let it slide down from her shoulders onto the floor.

She laughed delightfully and evilly.

"You took my favourite jumper and my duvet?"

"I was too cold with just the jumper," She shrugged.

"Can you get the milk?"

"There isn't any,"

"Check the drawer under the cutlery," I told her, only to be met with laughter a few seconds later. "What?"

"You steal hotel drink sachets?" They were handy for taking to work!

"Just look for one of those UHT milk things," She began leafing through the various packets of hot chocolate, tea, coffee and sugar.

"Here you go," Wrapping her arms around my back; she leant up onto her tiptoes, so that her chin could rest on my shoulder. "When did you last wash this t-shirt?" She enquired. I shrugged, as she leant in to kiss my cheek. "You need a shave,"

"Is this what every morning's going to be like? 'He slept with my daughter's best friend' blaring in the background, whilst I receive a constant barrage of abuse?"

"Whoever said there was going to be more mornings, Dr Cunningham?" She giggled playfully. "And Jezza covers a much wider range of topics than adultery; I'll have you know,"

"Jezza? Really?" I asked as I turned around

"Why _do _you have a Panda suit?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out,"

"Don't be a prick,"

"I can hardly reveal all my secrets on the first date, can I? We'll run out of things to talk about,"

"This is a date? Wow, you know how to treat a girl,"

"UHT milk and Kenco is my speciality," She smiled, and kissed me lightly. I had trouble believing I'd ever get used to casual kisses from Nikki. I could tell she regretted this one though, by the scrunched up expression that took over her face; it probably had something to with the mix of morning breath and coffee that lingered in my mouth.

"I called in sick with Leo; you should probably tell him you won't be coming in today,"

"I won't?"

"You definitely won't."

"And what excuse do I use?"

"You're ill," I nodded in agreement, and dialled Leo as quickly as I possibly could; excited to get on with whatever Nikki had planned in her mind for the rest of the day. I hoped that maybe we were thinking along the same lines.

"Leo, it's Harry,"

"_Where are you?" _I looked at the clock – I was meant to have been at the lab half an hour previously.

"I'm really sorry, but I've got this horrible stomach bug. I think it's a virus going around,"

"_So you won't be able to come in today?"_

"No, I'm really sorry,"

"_It's ok," _

"Thanks Leo, I'll see you as soon as I'm feeling better,"

"_Bye. And Harry?"_

"Yes?"

"_Tell Nikki she better be back in tomorrow,"_

"Oh, Nikki's off too?" I hoped my fake surprise worked.

"_Harry, you're calling in sick 10 minutes apart, from the same telephone number," _Oh, bollocks. _"Have a nice day together, be...safe." _And with that, he hung up. Had my boss just told me to use contraception?

"Leo figured us out,"

"I thought he might,"

"You don't...care?"

"He was going to find out sooner or later," She stuck her hand out. "Pass me the phone,"

"You've already called him?"

"Not for Leo, dumby, your Mum,"

"My Mum?" I held the phone closer to my chest; there was no way I was letting those two conspire again.

"Yes, your mother,"

"I'm definitely not giving you the phone now,"

"Harry, give me the phone,"

"No,"

"Give me the phone," She stood in front of me, one hand on her hip, the other still outstretched.

"No,"

"I am not going to have a long discussion,"

"Oh, unlike last time?"

"If we hadn't had a long discussion last time, would we be here right now?" I looked to the floor, stumped. Reluctantly, I had to admit she was right. "Right, settled. So, be a good boy and give me the phone,"

"What are you phoning her for, then?" I asked, as Nikki searched through the numbers stored on the phone, before holding it up to her ear.

"To let her know she lost the bet,"

"The bet?" They had a bet? On me?

"She thought it would take you at least a week to tell me the truth," It was nice to know my mother had such confidence in me.

"And you guessed?"

"Less than a day,"

"At least one of you had faith in me,"

"No, sweetie, I didn't have faith in you," She grinned. "I had faith in my ability to get anything I want out of you,"

"Nikki!"

"Hi, Mrs C," She shushed me with her finger.

If all my mornings ended up like this, I mused as she chatted away, it wouldn't be such a bad thing. I could probably deal with a few decades of them.

"Oh god, I know, he's got the worst temper. We could get him enrolled in anger management?"

And, abracadabra, just when I thought I'd finally got Nikki and I as a 'we', I realised it was more a case of Nikki and Mum. And then me.

God save me.


	21. My Second Wedding Date

My Second Wedding Date

"Harry, this is utter shit." I didn't bother replying to her statement, but simply grinned at her, before quickly turning my attention back on the road.

I'd never been a musical person, I was politely asked to leave the school recorder group at the age of 6; they say talent shows early on, and if I was anything to go by, so does the lack of it. I liked to think that if people had had a little more faith in me, I may have developed some sort of musical awareness. But, no, Miss Stephenson kicked me out and never invited me back. I had always blamed her for my taste in music, which everyone apart from me seemed to find horrifyingly terrible; on more than one occasion someone had joked about their ears bleeding.

I had never made an effort to be interested in music and as a result, it was rare that I ever listened to it. Occasionally I'd put a CD on in the car, but I hadn't bought anything new in years and quite often I preferred to drive in silence, allowing me space to think. Nikki had never understood how I could function like that; how I could live without having that one song that somehow managed to fit any mood I felt or that one album that I could listen to all day long.

"Seriously, my ears are bleeding," She pressed the eject button with such force that she may as well have punched it. I pulled into the side of the road and turned on the hazard lights, before reaching over and inspecting the side of her head closely. "What are you doing?" I reached my hand up and began flicking her ear lobe. "Ow!"

"My professional opinion, as a qualified doctor, is that your ears have not haemorrhaged."

"If they weren't bleeding then, they bloody are now." She clasped a hand against her now bright red ear. "Why the hell did you have to flick me?"

"Because I know how much you love it," I flicked her on the nose and then quickly restarted the car.

"Git." I could see that she was trying her hardest not to smile.

"Gorgeous and incessant turn on? Thanks ever so much, darling,"

"Dickhead. Think of one for that,"

"Dreamy, incomparably charming and kinky hunk, envied by all dudes."

"You're so annoying sometimes."

"Pot kettle."

"Pot kettle?"

"Pot calling kettle black,"

"Huh?"

"You've really never heard of pot calling kettle black?"

"My kitchen appliances can't talk," I tutted at her childishness.

"It's a saying," I explained.

"I figured." She began rummaging around in her handbag and soon pulled out her iPod. "Can I connect this up with the car?" I looked at her blankly, reminding her that I didn't have an iPod. "Did you even know that it was possible to connect iPods to car radios?"

"Fiddle about with it if you want, it might work," I started the car again and pulled out.

Sure enough, within 5 minutes she'd managed to get 'good' music playing through the speakers.

"I'll put on Colbie Caillat, she's my favourite at the moment,"

"Who calls their kid Colbie Caillat?" I moaned, wishing she'd just let me carry on playing ABBA. "Parents who give their children alliterating names are evil."

"It's a nice name. Stop whinging and listen."

I followed her command, deciding that arguing with her would be more hassle than it was worth; plus, I didn't want her to be in a bad mood when we had to be in the confided space of the car together for at least another 3 hours. Within 2 songs I could tell she was one of those guitar ladies, who sung about getting dumped by boys or falling in love with them, with both situations being dealt with in the stereotypical girly way. I didn't see the point; you couldn't even dance to them. Not that I was that into dancing anyway.

"It's so boring." I moaned.

"Just give it a chance,"

"You're going to be responsible for me falling asleep at the wheel." She smiled at my dramatics. "What if we crash? How are you going to deal with the guilt?"

"I'll just have to sue Colbie,"

"Seriously, how is Colbie even a name?"

"It's American,"

"Why is that an ok excuse?" I hit the steering wheel in fake frustration. "Why are Americans allowed to be dumb fucks and everyone act like it's ok? It's not ok. They're calling their kids ridiculous things like Colbie and Apple and Sage Moonblood and Jermajesty. It's not the African kids that need help; it's those poor things. It's a serious world issue."

"Nobody's called their kid Sage Moonblood,"

"Sylvester Stallone. Wikipedia it."

"Fine. Who called their kid Jermajesty then?"

"Jermaine Jackson,"

"Colbie is still a pretty name."

"It's not. It sounds like colbalt, which reminds me of the condom chewing gum,"

"What?" She finally let out a giggle that she'd been repressing for a while.

"You know! That chewing gum that comes in those packets that look like condoms."

"Again, what?"

"I don't know what it's called." I made a mental note to point it out next time we stopped at the services. "It's not important. The important part is that Colbie is a stupid name."

"At least it's original, unlike Harry."

"Yeah, 'cause Nicola's really revolutionary,"

"Nikki with two 'k's and an 'i' is pretty unique,"

"You only did that because you can't spell properly," I stated. "I've seen your reports, Dr Alexander,"

"I think you'll find I can spell perfectly well," She hit me playfully. "Focus on driving and the music,"

"How can you expect me to do that with such a pretty distraction next to me?" She leaned over and pulled my coat off the back seats, before draping it over her head.

"Better?"

"A little. I can still see your tits though,"

"HARRY!" She scolded me as she pulled the coat off herself. "You're so crude sometimes,"

"That ring on your finger gives me the permission to say things like that without being called crude,"

"Oh, so that's the reason you proposed? To get permission to be make rude comments about my body? It's all coming out today, isn't it Cunningham?"

"Don't be stupid. I proposed for the cooking."

"Charming,"

"As always,"

"Will you please just listen to the song? This one's my favourite."

"Why do you want me to listen to Colbalt so desperately?"

"Just listen to the bloody lyrics!" She shouted, finally reaching breaking point. I had trouble working out if she was genuinely upset or not. I guessed that she was probably just a little annoyed; well, I hoped that was the case.

_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again. Lucky we're in love in every way, lucky to have stayed where we have stayed, lucky to be coming home someday._

"_Our _song has to be bloody Macarena, typical us. We need a suitable first dance song, and I was _trying _to see if you liked my suggestion!" For the second time in less than half an hour I stopped the car.

I let my head rest on the headrest, with my cheek pressing against it, staring straight into her light brown orbs, I noticed the stony expression on her face melt away. "You don't like our song?"

"Of course I _like _our song. We just can't have it as our first dance." To be honest, I quite liked the idea of getting up on the floor and shaking my booty to the Macarena – it is probably the only dance I'm capable of doing, after all. She reached out her hand and interlocked her fingers with mine.

"Then I'll go with your suggestion,"

"Really?"

"It's pretty fitting, isn't it?" I smiled. "Being best friends."

"I was expecting a scornful, yet witty, reply,"

"Not so sure about the bit about being lucky, though." She hit me on the arm, laughing as I recoiled in pain. "Fuck you! You actually gave me dead arm,"

"Zak let me practice on him,"

"You practiced punching Zak? What, so that you could hurt me more than you already do?" Her laughter was irrepressible. I had become so used to her feeble little slaps over the years, that a part of me thought this particular hit might have hurt less if I hadn't been so surprised by it. "You find it funny? Great. You find it funny. I'll have a bruise in the morning. What happens if people start questioning, huh? Why's he got a massive bruise all over his bicep? Has she been hitting him? They'll ring the police, report domestic abuse."

"Unless you're planning on wearing a tank top to your cousin's wedding, nobody will be able to see your bicep."

"Ahhh, so you do admit there will be a bruise?"

"Of course. I'm quite proud, actually,"

"I don't want to marry you anymore." I grinned.

"But who'll cook for you if you don't?"

"I have a mother."

"My cooking ability is the only thing keeping you with me?"

"Of course. It's not like you have any other positive traits."

"I can tell our marriage is going to long and fruitful,"

"Unlike Julie's,"

"Harry!"

"What?"

"You can't say that,"

"Why not? It's true – how long was it, 8 months?" I did the maths in my head; Nikki and I had just had our 2 year anniversary, and Julie had been dating this new guy for about a year. "A year tops. And now she's moved on to the next bloke – that marriage was a total sham,"

"You have a point," I loved it when she had to admit that I was right. "But you can't go around talking like that this weekend, ok?"

"Really? I was planning on reminding everyone that her first wedding was only a couple of years ago at every given opportunity, just to reassure them she was the type of girl who would stick around,"

"Prat." I knew she hated my sarcasm – maybe that was why I used it so often.

"Perfect, romantic and tender; sweetheart, you do flatter me far too much."

**The End.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed.**


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